


Moonlight

by BlushingKatya (OrangeVanilla)



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, F/F, Lesbian AU, Pining, technically rebound sex, trixie and her search for an art girlfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeVanilla/pseuds/BlushingKatya
Summary: Katya turns to sit on the porch, her feet dangling above the damp cement, and Trixie’s heart is in her throat as she sits next to her. “Thought maybe you needed some help, you look a little stressed,” she says gently, red lips curling to smile. “I’m Katya, by the way. Your hair is beautiful. Sorry I didn’t say earlier.”





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever trixya fic! please feel free to give me pointers lol i am always happy to learn from a friend

Trixie definitely isn’t good at moving on. She’s never been good at it, not since her first meltdown over not getting the part of the Virgin Mary in the Christmas play, five years old and sobbing over being demoted to the role of a sheep. Ever since breaking up with Pearl, she’s been in hell about it, eating pints of ice cream and watching movies like _The Notebook_ to have an excuse to be crying into her pillow. She’s written enough songs to fill a discography, most of the pages in her collection covered in smatterings of tears.

That’s appropriate for a week, but it’s been two months.

Trixie reaches an epiphany when she’s masturbating to an Ariana Grande song, a tear slipping down her cheek before she can reach an orgasm. She can’t even climax without missing Pearl. This is the most tragic she’s ever felt, mascara trailing down the side of her cheek, fingers inside her lacy panties and _Moonlight_ playing through her phone, of all things. 

The music is clicked off once Trixie’s found a tissue, fingers still trembling as she makes her way around her room. She needs to call someone and vent before this turns into another session of crying and getting off to slow pop songs. “Siri, call Dela,” she calls in a shaky tone, moving only to set it on speakerphone as she searches for something to wear, padding around her room with half her usual energy. 

Soft pink hair is pulled up into a high ponytail as Trixie looks for some concealer. She’s got a lecture about Jason Robert Brown in an hour and a half and she really doesn’t need to walk in looking like she’s had a crying fit. “Please tell me you’re calling about plans to get drunk,” Dela’s voice comes through the phone after a few moments of dial tone, familiar enough to make Trixie smile a little. 

“Kind of,” Trixie’s tone wobbles as she tries her best to sound perky, blending some concealer under her eyes. She’s got enough time to redo her eyeshadow, at least. This is salvageable. “I need to find a party to go to. Is it anyone’s birthday soon? Anyone got travelling parents?”

“I think that Sharon girl from Sasha’s friend’s art class has a free house tonight, Adore can probably get us in,” Dela suggests, groaning when Trixie gasps quietly. Any art student party means free alcohol and hot people. Hot girls. Hot girls that might be into Trixie. Everyone keeps telling her she needs a rebound, and art girls are a special kind of mythical being. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come see me after your lecture, I need to talk to you.”

And with that, Trixie’s left to her own thoughts. She needs more people around her that aren’t her friends, considering she definitely can’t sleep with Dela. All the people who are in her reach are just... safe. Not exciting enough to distract her from her need to touch away the pain of her breakup. Pearl was... well, her first venture into ‘art girl’ territory. 

It can happen again, though, Trixie tells herself as she starts applying a shade of soft pink to her plush lips, humming softly as she thinks about her cupids bow and not about Pearl. She can totally hook another girl from the art block. Totally. These lips alone are good enough to hook an art girl.

By the time she arrives for her lecture, Trixie is at least in a good enough mood to greet people as she settles into a seat at the back of the hall, not a sign of the tears from earlier. She’s good at putting on a brave face. She sighs as she pulls her laptop from her bag, opening it and typing her password in idly. 

Her last browsing tab is still open, full of pictures of Pomeranians playing in the snow. Trixie lets a wavering noise slip past her lips, a fluffy dog would help a lot right now. Maybe she can get a therapy dog. A therapy Pomeranian. 

Trixie’s brain wanders from fluffy dogs as the lecture goes on, her eyes scanning over people in the hall. She knows enough about Jason Robert Brown to write a biography about him, she’s only here for the formality. There are a few new faces, musical theatre lectures always end up with handfuls of random people. The most interesting today is the girl three rows in front of her, who’s wearing a dress full of problem patterns and somehow pulling it off.

By the time the lecture is over, Trixie’s got a document full of pictures of Pomeranians, along with a half started Powerpoint presentation about why she deserves one. She’s open to other breeds, but a therapy Pomeranian would really mend her broken heart. She could call it Tinkerbell. That would be cute.

“Trixie!” Dela smacks Trixie’s shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts of small, fluffy dogs. They’re in the library, huddled at the table behind the religion section, Trixie watching for anyone to pass as Dela rolls cigarettes. She doesn’t smoke, never has, but rolling for the girls in her French class is ‘the best way to get a surprise lay’, according to Dela. 

“Do we need any alcohol for tonight?” Trixie whispers, staring at someone who starts making their way to the botany section, which is almost too close for comfort, not relaxing until they move. Dela sighs, finishing her precise rolling and turning to face Trixie. 

“Do you listen?” Dela complains, raising an eyebrow when Trixie goes to defend herself. It’s fair, she’s been really spacey recently. More so than usual. “I know you were crying on the phone earlier, sweetheart. Do you think a party is really the best idea?”

Trixie sighs, resting her hand on her palm and leaning against the table. “Yeah. I should move on, so like. Partying with pretty girls is a good idea. Right?” she says, eyes full of need to be validated. She loves Dela to pieces, even if they’re polar opposites to outsiders. Her opinion means a lot.

“Just be careful, kitty,” Dela says gently, tucking a stray piece of soft pink hair behind Trixie’s ear and smiling softly. For someone wearing severe black lipstick, Trixie’s pretty sure Dela’s maybe the sweetest friend she has. “If anything happens, I’ll be there. And I’ll cut a bitch for my Trixie.”

Trixie beams, helping place Dela’s little collection of cigs into her tin and pulling her denim jacket on. “So, alcohol. Do we bring our own?” she asks, pulling her skirt down a little when it rises up her legs, threatening a flashing incident at any second. 

They link hands as they walk, chatting quietly about Trixie’s wardrobe. She figures Dela will disapprove of anything she suggests, in that cute, mom friend way. Trixie’s not planning on arriving until at least 10, giving her plenty of time to match shoes with a dress and a jacket, and makeup. And maybe nails. 

Trixie’s in the middle of planning what nail polish she needs to find when she narrowly avoids walking face first into someone, squeaking an apology and gasping when she notices the same awful patterns from the lecture hall. She lets go of Dela’s hand, praying she’ll take the hint and continue walking. This isn’t just problem pattern girl; this is red lipstick, blonde, foreign art girl. And she’s just staring at her. 

“I’m so sorry,” Trixie whispers, smiling when foreign art girl grins, all perfect straight teeth and crimson lips. Oh wow, Trixie’s heart is hammering. “I was just lost in my thoughts, I should be more careful,”

“It’s fine, beautiful, no harm done,” the blonde laughs smoothly, setting the book she’d been glancing at back on the shelf and squeezing Trixie’s shoulder gently. “Be safe. Don’t need that pretty face in any harm’s way,”

And with that, she’s gone. Trixie turns to watch as the blonde bounces away, hopping up to sit on a table where Dela’s friend Sasha is sat. “ _Trixie_!” Dela’s voice comes from behind her, a hand grabbing hers and pulling Trixie to the door. “You’re staring, you gay creep!”

Trixie thinks hard about being a gay creep when she’s home, stares into her reflection’s eyes in the toaster as she waits for her pop tarts to pop. Maybe foreign art girl will be at the party tonight. If the universe is being kind, she will be, with her red mouth and her accent and her wide blue-green eyes. 

She thinks less about the blonde girl while she’s trying on outfits, more about how she needs to present herself. Trixie Mattel is not a slut, but she’s not afraid to look like one. She eventually goes with a sparkly pink dress, one with a plunging neckline and a tight skirt. She has plenty of shoes that will compliment it fine, so that’s one less thing to worry about. 

Trixie turns up at nine thirty, since Dela insisted on meeting her outside before to borrow her only pair of black heels. “Oh, you look cute!” Trixie grins as she slides out of her Uber, passing her heels over and helping the black haired girl pull them on without falling. Dela’s wearing a black and white dress, which is a step up from black. “Impressing anyone tonight?”

“Just because you’re trying to get your Russian fantasy, doesn’t mean we’re all dressing to get laid,” Dela teases, slipping her flats into her purse and smiling when Trixie shrieks. “Oh my god, your shoes, no wonder you’re so tall,” she complains, and it’s not exactly an unfair comment. Trixie likes being tall. She feels more empowered.

“I’m not _just_ looking for Russian fantasies. There’s that pretty girl who dresses like... trash chic,” Trixie links arms with Dela as they walk towards the home of Sharon Weedle or something, she’s not really sure. She hopes its Weedle. She knows a plenty of Pokémon facts. “This is the Halloween girl, right?”

Dela shoots her a disparaging look before nodding. “You’re a bitch for not learning names, but yes, this is Halloween girl,” she rolls her eyes, opening the door and making a beeline for the kitchen, leaving Trixie to close the door and get lost in the swarm of people. Dela’s caring, but she is a cruel girl when it comes to making Trixie actually talk to new people.

“Hey! Trixie, right?” a familiar voice comes from the stairs. Trixie glances up, beaming when she locks eyes with Courtney Act. She’s flawlessly made up, as usual, in a glitzy silver dress that only really she could pull off so perfectly. “I had no idea you knew Sharon!”

“I don’t!” Trixie admits, giggling as she’s pulled into a close hug. Courtney’s much shorter than her, especially with Trixie in her sequined platform heels. “I just needed to get out of my room, y’know? And I like partying, and I like moving on from old news,” she decides aloud against Courtney’s soft blonde hair. She may have had a few warm up shots before leaving, stolen from her mom’s liquor cabinet. 

“Oh my god, congrats on losing Pearl! You’re leagues above her, sweetheart, come on,” Courtney says warmly as she starts leading the way to the kitchen, passing a couple that are very comfortable with dry humping on the floor. Trixie’s smile is still there, she’s trying to be less sad about her two month old break up. “You got a new lady in your life? Or man, I don’t know your type.”

“I’m window shopping tonight,” Trixie hums as she’s led to stop by a bowl full of what smells like a tropical nightmare, holding onto the counter as Courtney grabs two cups. “I need a change, I’ve been wallowing in my own pity since it finished,”

Courtney takes a sip from her own cup as she hands one to Trixie, shuddering and groaning. “That’s fucking strong, why aren’t you dating again already? You’ve got body to spare, you goddess,” Courtney charms, always so good at making people feel better. They’ve only spoken a handful of times before, but Trixie’s always been more optimistic after every one of their mid lecture pep talks. 

“I need the right kind of girl, you know? Someone different. Someone, like, who’s exciting and new and hot,” Trixie says after swallowing a mouthful of the awful punch, which _feels_ like a punch. “Do you have, like, any suggestions?”

Trixie watches as Courtney takes a moment to think, surveying the people crowding the large kitchen and narrowing her eyes a little. “Um. If you want someone _really_ different from Pearl, I have ideas,”

“Am I hearing things, or is my name in Courtney Act’s mouth?” a _very_ familiar voice purrs from just behind Trixie, a cool hand pressing against her waist. Pearl. Trixie turns, smiling weakly as she locks eyes with her ex girlfriend. “Oh, Trixie! Hi!”

“Hey, Pearl,” Trixie says softly, taking another sip of her drink and revelling in the burning in her throat. It’s a welcome change from the pain in her heart. It’s breaking. Her heart is breaking right now. 

Pearl looks just like she did the last time Trixie saw her, all casually beautiful, her makeup has that dewy glow, she’s in a flowy dress that hugs her just right at the waist. Courtney clears her throat, offering Pearl a cup full of punch and placing a hand on Trixie’s other hip. “We were discussing Trixie’s ever changing type in women. I think she’d be a good match for-”

Pearl takes the cup from Courtney, keeping her other hand on Trixie’s hip. Trixie doesn’t feel capable of moving, like her shoes have melted into the floor and she’s just stuck with two girls’ hands on her hips. “Courtney, you’re such a good wing woman. I’m sure whoever you steer Trixie towards will be lovely for her,” Pearl says in this tone that isn’t even mean, it’s just nice, and Trixie can’t handle it. 

Trixie downs the rest of her cup and takes a step back, her chest heaving a little when Pearl’s hand leaves her. “I need some air. Thank you, Courtney,” she says softly, turning and heading towards any door that will get her outside. She ignores the concerned look Courtney gives her, striding through crowds of people in the living room and prying a sliding door open, gasping when cold air hits her lungs hard.

She doesn’t quite know when she starts crying, or why, but she does. It’s so quiet outside, secluded enough for her to head out onto the porch without risk of being hassled, gripping the damp wooden banister as she steps out onto the grass. She’s swaying, that punch going to her head too quickly for her liking.

After five minutes by herself, Trixie’s crying hard enough to warrant an actual sob, racking through her harshly. This was such a bad idea, of course Pearl would be at this stupid party, and of course her stupid feelings were still hanging around like a bad dream. She’s not ready for a quick rebound, not by a long shot. It took her a month to get over Brokeback Mountain.

“Fuck!” she groans, kicking the cold brick wall to make her point, only making things worse by scuffing the toe of her heel. “Stupid fucking idea from stupid Trixie,” she sniffles, shivering as the cold night air bites at her bare legs. 

“Wanna share a joint?”

The voice behind Trixie is so unexpected she jumps, grabbing the rough wall to stop herself from head butting it. Nice, graceful. She turns to see the red lips from the library smiling at her sympathetically, a lit joint between her long fingers. “Um,” Trixie says, a vision of intelligence. “Sure.”

The blonde turns to sit on the porch, her feet dangling above the damp cement as she takes a drag, and Trixie’s heart is in her throat as she sits next to her. “Thought maybe it’d help, you look a little stressed. Didn’t want you to harm the other shoe,” she says gently, passing the joint to Trixie. “I’m Katya, by the way. Your hair is fucking beautiful. Sorry I didn’t say earlier.”

Trixie blushes hard at that, taking a small drag and exhaling immediately to pass off the fact that she’s never smoked in her life, and that she’s got tears streaked down her cheeks. “Thank you, I’m Trixie. I’m just... not good at feelings,” she says quietly, heart skipping a beat when Katya’s hand rests against her thigh, fingertips against her skin. “Anyway, it’s nice to put a name to the face. Katya.”

Katya smiles, a glossy look in her eyes. It’s only now that Trixie notices the skin tight leather dress Katya’s wearing, the black Dr Martens and torn fishnet tights. She wears it like it’s casual, like this is her version of leggings and a t-shirt. Trixie bites her lip, suddenly feeling weird about wearing all pink. 

Trixie doesn’t notice Katya take the joint back, only processing that it’s not in her hand when Katya’s deep red mouth closes around it, cheeks sucking in as she smokes. She looks so natural about it all. “You’re sweet,” Katya smiles, voice husky through an exhale. “You ever smoked before?”

Trixie shakes her head, still faintly aware of Katya’s hand against her thigh. “Not really, I don’t party much,” she admits, blushing when she realises how lame that must sound. She takes a moment to hastily wipe at her cheeks, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I mean, I do, but I usually just stick to alcohol. Or like-”

Katya stops her with a smooth laugh, using Trixie’s thigh as support to wiggle closer as the breeze picks up. “Don’t worry, I’m a good teacher if you wanna learn,” she purrs, winking playfully and handing Trixie the joint again. 

Trixie tries to calm her nerves, shifting her feet against the paved ground. “I’m a good student, if you wanna share some expertise,” she smiles softly, turning her full attention to Katya. Focusing is difficult with five vodka shots and the world’s strongest punch in your system, but Trixie can still try. If she’s gonna focus on anything, Katya is a good motivation.

Katya gets closer still, moving to tuck her left foot under her and facing Trixie comfortably, her tight black dress riding further up her thigh. _Oh_. “You need to inhale pretty deeply, just like taking a deep breath. But with smoke,” Katya instructs, running a hand through her thick blonde hair. 

Trixie does as she’s instructed, breathing in slowly and exhaling with a small cough. “That was good!” Katya praises, resting a hand at the small of Trixie’s back. Trixie coughs again, wincing at the feeling in her chest. It didn’t _feel_ good, but the praise leaves a warm feeling in her stomach. 

“So,” Trixie says, her voice a little raspier since her throat feels like it’s on fire, “what do you do? I mean, I think I’ve seen you hanging around the art wing.” She glances over Katya’s frame as she hands the joint back, trying her best to look cool and casual. Katya smiles softly, inhaling slowly and trailing idle shapes against Trixie’s back.

“Smart girl, I do take art. And I’m a gymnast in my spare time,” she says as smoke trails from her lips, no hint of any coughs. Trixie flutters. “Do you know Sasha? I feel like she’s mentioned you before.”

Trixie blushes, nodding as she watches Katya smoke. “Sasha’s friends with Dela, kind of. We met at... god, I think it was Adore’s last party, it was just before I, um... broke up with Pearl,” she lowers her tone as her eyes get watery again, raising an eyebrow when Katya’s face lights up. Not the reaction she was expecting.

“Oh! You’re the model from Pearl’s art project!” Katya grins, and Trixie’s eyes widen as the realisation dawns on her. She’d forgotten all about those pictures, she figured Pearl would have gone with some other idea. Apparently not. “This is fate, I’m obsessed with those pictures. You’re a total muse,” Katya beams, her dress riding even further up as she leans closer. Trixie’s doing everything in her power to not look at the band of lace against each of Katya’s thighs, the peep of a fastener.

“That’s sweet, I completely forgot about them. I’ve been trying to like... find someone else to get artsy with, y’know?” Trixie says in her best ‘please be interested in me’ voice, blinking slowly and adjusting her dress to show off a little more cleavage. Katya smiles obliviously, nodding as she wets her lips. 

“I get that. Us art types are a catch,” she wiggles a brow as she speaks, reaching to brush a few strands of Trixie’s soft pink hair out of her face. “You’re into theatre stuff, right? Pearl’s an interesting choice of girlfriend.”

Trixie laughs loudly at that, leaning back as Katya grins, all crimson lips and snow white teeth, no business being so cute. “Yeah, you could say that,” she smirks when she’s stifled her laughter, moving to rest her legs up on the porch, stretched long and comfortable. Her heels are killing her already, and it’s barely midnight at this point. “I mean, she was just nice. I liked her lots, getting over her’s hard.”

It takes a moment of comfortable silence for Trixie to notice the way Katya’s looking at her legs, still smoking steadily. “Pearl talked a lot about you. Never mentioned all this,” Katya hums in a low voice, trailing her fingertips against Trixie’s calf, gliding up past her knee and over her thigh like she’s marking a trail. “She knows my type. This is deliberate, she kept you secret for a reason.” 

“Oh, totally, Pearl’s a real mastermind,” Trixie teases, earning a startled laugh from Katya, coughing through her exhaling. Trixie doesn’t really have a firm type, she just knows she likes girls. Girls like Katya, apparently. She tents a leg, her dress riding _far_ up thanks to her heel. Katya notices this, clearly. “What’d you mean by ‘all this’, hm? Do I even wanna know?”

“All your ‘walking wet dream’ stuff. I like girls who are taller than me, too. Girls with pink hair, and brown eyes. And who haven’t smoked before,” Katya hums, clearly so proud of herself by the grin on her lips. “Ticking all my boxes, Trixie.”

Trixie rolls her eyes, moving to lay her legs over Katya’s lap, getting closer to be comfortable. “I’m glad I’m worthy of a gymnast. And for the record, you’re my type, too. I love girls who smoke and wear leather,” she purrs, trying her best to be flirty. Those shots are wearing off. Katya smiles, swinging both her legs over the porch again to let Trixie get more comfortable. “Did Pearl show you the more intimate pictures?”

Katya bites her bottom lip, finishing her joint and snuffing it on the porch, setting the roach in an empty plant pot. “If you’re asking if I’ve seen your artistic nudes, yes,” she admits, dragging her nails over Trixie’s thighs slowly, applying just enough pressure to leave soft pink trails against smooth, tanned skin. She swears under her breath, only audible because Trixie’s listening to every noise she makes. 

“Does real life do them justice?” she whispers, pushing just a little further, testing. Katya glances up, metallic silver nails trailing until they meet the hem of Trixie’s dress. Trixie tilts her head to the side a little, hair falling over her shoulders as she waits patiently. “Do I live up to your expectations, Katya?”

Katya just nods, leaning closer and moving her hands to Trixie’s hips, squeezing gently. Trixie’s heart is beating like the wings of a hummingbird, leaning just a little closer and resting a hand against Katya’s forearm.

“Katya!”

Neither of them move any further apart, but Katya turns her head to the direction the voice came from, grinning dazzlingly when it turns out to be Sasha. Trixie blushes hard, awesome. Her moment’s been ruined. “Sasha, this is Trixie!” Katya beams, keeping her hands at Trixie’s sides, moving them up to her waist as she moves a little. 

Trixie waves politely, a smile on her lips as she pulls her dress up a little. Sasha Velour doesn’t need to see her cleavage. “Yeah, we’ve met before, right?” Sasha says warmly, taking a few steps out onto the porch and lighting a cigarette. “Katya, is this where you’ve been for the past hour? We need to leave soon, I promised Farrah we’d give her a ride home,” she says smoothly, handing Katya the cigarette rather that smoking it herself.

Trixie glances down, great. All of these butterflies have been for nothing. She smiles weakly at Katya, moving so her legs are over the edge of the porch again. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she says gently, watching at Katya’s red lips close around the cigarette. “I should head in, Dela’s probably gonna-”

“Hey, no, come home with us,” Katya says softly, exhaling and brushing Trixie’s hair behind her shoulder. She doesn’t spare a glance at Sasha when she laughs softly, just keeps gazing over Trixie earnestly. “Sasha, we’ll be with you in five, meet you in the car?”

“Sure thing. You ladies use protection, all that eye fucking can lead to something nasty,” Sasha teases as she heads inside, sliding the door shut and leaving Katya and Trixie alone again. Trixie’s over thinking this, sure, but the look in Katya’s eyes is something beyond words. She’s so fucking pretty. 

“You really want me to spend the night?” Trixie whispers, swallowing hard as Katya drops her cigarette on the cement tiles, fizzling out after a few moments. “I don’t have to, if you’re not into that. I can go home-”

Katya moves forward before Trixie can finish her sentence, kissing her hard, desperately, enough to draw a soft moan from Trixie. Katya tastes like smoke and cherries, resting her hand against Trixie’s thigh and slipping it just under her dress, squeezing and rubbing just where she’s ticklish enough to gasp. 

Katya kisses like she’s an expert, like Trixie’s never really been kissed before now, deep and fierce and so in control. By the time they part, Katya’s lipstick is smeared, with obvious stray pink around her lips. Trixie figures she must look even more obvious than Katya, but that’s fine. 

“Come on. We don’t have to do anything, but I wanna just look at you a little longer,” Katya grins as she hops up to stand, holding a hand out for Trixie. Trixie quirks an eyebrow, standing on the paving and opting to walk up the patio steps instead, still taking Katya’s hand anyway. 

“You gonna take some art project pictures of me? I’ve heard I’m good,” Trixie smiles softly, lacing her fingers with Katya’s and squeezing gently as they head back inside. She catches sight of Dela in the hallway, waving and staying close to Katya’s side. The music is loud enough to warrant for pressing against her. “I need to say goodbye to my friend, is that okay?” she asks, pink lips close to Katya’s ear.

“Of course! I need to find my bag, I’ll meet you at the stairs,” Katya smiles, pressing a kiss to Trixie’s cheek and squeezing her waist, staying by her side until she’s with Dela. “I won’t be long, promise. See you in a sec,”

Trixie watches as Katya disappears into the crowd, beaming at Dela and leaning against the wall. “Update, I’m gonna spend the night with Katya and Sasha,” she calls over the music, clocking how Dela’s eyes widen. “Don’t freak out at me, please! I just think she’s cute!”

“Yeah, apparently,” Dela rolls her eyes, moving close to wipe what must be smudged lipstick from around Trixie’s lips, making her blush a little. “Katya Zamo’s a tiger, don’t get bitten. I don’t wanna see any hickeys, or I’ll have to break out the mom routine.”

Trixie moves to wait by the stairs, narrowing her eyes as Dela keeps fussing over her lipstick. “I won’t let the nasty Russian girl bite me, Dela, I promise,” she says fondly, waving when she sees Katya weaving through moving bodies, her own lipstick fixed too. “She’s beautiful,” she murmurs, biting her bottom lip and sighing dreamily.

“You’re so smitten,” Dela laughs, stepping back a little when Katya nears them.”You take care of her, or Sasha will let me know,” she says against Katya’s ear when she’s close enough, smiling and pressing a hand against her shoulder.

Katya just smiles and nods, linking hands with Trixie and squeezing gently. “I’ll be nice if Trixie is. Come on, Sasha’ll kill me if I keep her waiting,” Katya opens the front door, letting Trixie head out first and closing the door behind them. She draws back a little, pulling Trixie close and kissing her slowly, hands against her hips and rubbing slowly. “You don’t have to do anything tonight, if you don’t want to,” she says softly, trailing kisses along Trixie’s jaw, wet and lazy. “I can take the couch.”

“I want to,” Trixie assures her, tilting her head to give Katya better access to wherever she wants to place her lips. A car honks nearby, presumably Sasha’s by the way Katya groans. “I do want to, Katya. I’m not afraid of telling you if that changes.”

By the time they actually make it to Sasha’s Fiat, Trixie is hyper aware of how horny she’s getting, quietly happy that her and Katya are left in the backseat while Farrah gets dropped home.

Sasha and Farrah are talking in the front of the car, allowing Trixie and Katya to take turns playing a vastly unsuccessful game of chicken, each round leading to them making out until Sasha coughs loud enough for them to part. “Are you high?” Trixie asks Katya as Farrah starts getting out of the car, the sudden realisation dawning on her. Katya had been so concerned about Trixie being okay with things, she hadn’t even considered the blonde’s state of mind.

“Not at all, возлюбленная, I’m fine,” Katya says warmly, resting a foot up against the now empty seat in front of her, flash of royal blue lace visible from where Trixie’s sitting. Trixie whimpers softly, resting her head against the seat and groaning. “You’re- oh god, are _you_ high?”

Trixie snorts a little, she’s pretty safely not high. She wishes she was. Maybe she’d be drooling over Katya less. “No, I’m just... frustrated,” she whispers the last word, deflating a little when she notices Sasha’s eyebrow raise in the mirror. “Thank you, by the way! You’re super kind. I can sleep on the couch, if-”

“We all know you’re not sleeping on any couches tonight, сахар,” Sasha laughs smoothly, pulling away from the curb and humming idly to herself. Trixie watches her for a while, fingers still linked with Katya’s. Why are all the art students so offensively beautiful? God. “So, you’re friends with Dela?”

Trixie nods, crossing one long leg over the other and turning to watch Katya, transfixed with looking out of the window. Her face is contoured to perfection, but Trixie can still see the softer lines, the sweetness. Oh, she’s too pretty. Her poor gay heart is hammering. “Yeah, Dela and I go way back,” she says softly, squeezing Katya’s hand gently and smiling when she receives a squeeze back. “We do drama and math together, so. Fun.”

Katya’s head snaps away from the window, still holding Trixie’s hand. “No way! You take _math_! All that leg and you take math!” she beams, grinning as Trixie starts laughing. “Fuck me dry, Trixie, you’re a nerd!”

It’s not until they make it inside Katya and Sasha’s apartment that Katya stops talking about math, instead becoming intent on showing Trixie every corner of their little home. The living room is cluttered with books and trinkets, colourful quilts thrown over the loveseat. There are picture frames everywhere, such a small space filled to the brim with memories and life. There are plenty of pictures of their large friendship group, some family photos, alongside art pieces with varying styles.

The colour spills into the kitchen, where the fridge alone is covered in obscene magnets pinning yet more pictures to its surface. There’s a Polaroid of Katya in a black lace bodysuit doing the splits, pinned next to another of Katya and Sasha curled up on a pile of coats. It’s sweet. 

“And this,” Katya continues her ramblings of introductions, dragging Trixie out of the kitchen once she’s explained the spice rack, “is the _boudoir_ ,” she says in a husky tone, opening her bedroom door and ushering Trixie in first. It’s dark, but Trixie can make out shapes of furniture, even more art on the wall.

“Ooh,” Trixie coos as she takes a few steps in, it’s very Katya, judging by how much she knows of her already. There’s a pile of CD’s in the corner, surrounded by almost exclusively underwear. The room smells heavily of incense, like jasmine and lavender. “I like it. Are those medals?”

Katya grins as she closes the door, flicking the light on a few moments later so Trixie can stop squinting. Definitely medals, piled into a boxed marked... something in Russian, presumably. “Uh huh, from back home. All for killing sports,” Katya deadpans, kicking her boots off and wheezing when Trixie shoots her a look. “Gymnastics, don’t worry. Heels off, you deserve comfort as much as the rest of us.”

Trixie steps out of her heels, moaning softly as her feet find the fluffy carpet. “God, that’s nice,” she hums softly, turning her attention to Katya when she finds she can’t read any of her medals. Katya’s busy with removing clothes from the bed, setting them instead over the back of a red and white pleather chair. “Speaking of comfort, you’ve been in leather all night and you look _inhumanly_ fine.”

“Leather is a lifestyle. If I could wear leather on my deathbed, I would. And my wedding. _Our_ wedding. Now we’ve kissed, we have to marry or my father will beat me,” Katya says with that same serious tone, making Trixie’s giggle turn into a screech when she notices the look on her face. “No joke! We have to be married by next week, we’re about to share a _bed_!”

Her accent gets thick as she carries on, and Trixie’s just happy to listen, making a happy noise when Katya leans up to kiss her cheek. “I’m down to get hitched, you can wear leather and I’ll wear lace. We’ll call it a bonding ceremony,” she suggests, tingling when Katya lets out a loud laugh, resting her hands at Trixie’s hips. “Can I get you out of that leather?”

Those red lips curl up into an easy smile, Katya leans up to kiss Trixie again, slower than earlier. Less urgent, giving them both time to just appreciate the moment. Trixie lets Katya guide a hand towards her dress’s zipper, pulling slowly until it can go no further. Katya pulls away only to push her dress down past her knees, and the gasp that leave Trixie’s lips is enough to make her blush.

“Did you forget this dress was strapless?” Katya laughs smoothly as she steps out of her dress, standing in front of Trixie in just her fishnet stockings, a garter belt and those lacy blue panties, completely topless and completely comfortable. Trixie’s speechless. 

Katya takes the silence to take hold of the hem of Trixie’s dress, quirking an eyebrow and lifting slowly when the taller girl nods. They manage to shimmy it over Trixie’s head without too much stress, leaving Trixie in her matching lilac set of underwear. Katya looks over her like she’s a Van Gogh. Or a really tall stack of pancakes. 

“You can still wear a bra with a strapless dress,” Trixie hums, making her way to the bed and falling against the soft mattress like she’s in a movie from the 40’s, reaching for her heels and pulling them on again. They make her feel a little more powerful, a little less like Trixie Mattel. “Come on. Come give me the new wife treatment,” she says softly, speaking before she has time to think about it. 

Much to Trixie’s relief, Katya does just as she asks, kneeling on the bed between Trixie’s legs and just gazing over her for a few moments. “Fucking hell, ебать,” Katya laughs breathlessly, moving to settle against Trixie comfortably, leaning forward to kiss her sweetly. Her right hand rests at Trixie’s hip, left hand reaching up to stroke over the lacy fabric of Trixie’s bra, trailing slow circles when she finds the stiffening peak of her nipple. 

Trixie moans softly, rolling her hips and grinding slowly against Katya’s thigh, shuddering at the friction. Katya’s lipstick is still smeared around the edges, and Trixie kind of loves it, loves how she looks so good even with two shades of lipstick over her face. “You wanna take my bra off?” she asks gently, arching her back up at Katya’s nod.

It’s only when Trixie’s bra is strewn on the floor and Katya’s pressing kisses to her breasts that it dawns on her about her lipstick, grinning and making a point to leave a print of her puckered lips against Trixie’s skin. “I can take this off, if you don’t want marks all over you,” she offers, laughing when Trixie shakes her head quickly. “Oh, you wanna be covered, hm?”

“I like that idea,” Trixie purrs, trailing her fingertips along Katya’s diamond cut jaw, petting a hand through her thick blonde hair. “You’re pretty. And I like the red lips.”

Katya beams and pulls Trixie closer by her hips, smiling warmly and pressing a quick kiss to her plump lips. “Thank you, beautiful. Bubblegum princess,” she twirls a stray strand of Trixie’s hair around her index finger, glancing down as Trixie’s hands rest at her garter belt. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Trixie smiles, easing the hooks and clasps open and popping the clasps off Katya’s stockings, working quietly, dutifully. She wants Katya undressed, wants to revel in every inch. This girl is a miracle. “Mind if I..?” she trails off, glancing up at Katya as one hand drops the belt to the floor, the other at the edge of her panties. Her heart is thrumming, half panicked that she’s taking too long, half feeling like she’s not being fast enough. 

Katya answers wordlessly, pushing Trixie back against the pillows and kissing over her breasts, taking one nipple in her mouth and sucking slowly. Her eyes slide shut, hands moving up squeezing her other breast, patient and slow. Trixie shudders, moaning as she hooks a leg around Katya’s own for some kind of control of the situation. 

All she can think about is how hot Katya’s mouth is, tounge warm and wet as she sucks and licks over Trixie’s nipples, switching between them at her own pace. Katya eventually gives up with teasing with her fingers, hands sliding down Trixie’s body as she scrapes her teeth over Trixie’s stiff nipples one at a time, earning a moan. “Oh, Trixie, you’re spoiling me,” Katya grins, pressing a soft trail of kisses to the middle of her chest, leaving crimson in her wake.

Trixie moans when she feels fingers rubbing at her swollen lips through the lace of her panties, digging her nails into her palms as she tips her head back. “Please, Katya,” she begs softly, hips arching down in the hope of something more than those delicate touches. 

“You’re soaking, baby, aren’t you?” Katya whispers, her wide eyed gaze flickering up and meeting Trixie’s as she hooks her fingers at the waistband of her panties, easing them down slowly and pulling them off when Trixie lifts her legs. Katya settles further down the bed, still nestled comfortably between Trixie’s thighs, leaving hot, wet kisses against tanned flesh.

Trixie’s half regretting the heels now, pressing hard against the mattress as her legs shake, Katya’s lips getting ever closer to where she needs them to be. She can feel how wet she already is, so desperate to be touched again, and Katya’s so comfortable with taking her time. “Oh my god, Katya, please,” she starts, gasping shakily when Katya runs her tongue over Trixie’s labia, swirling slowly before flicking over her clit.

Trixie moans at the sudden spike of relief against her pussy, gripping the satin red sheets with one hand and Katya’s blonde roots with the other, trembling fingers tugging lightly. Katya’s tongue keeps working at her clit for a while, eventually dipping to suck lightly over her labia, dipping to press her tongue inside her slowly, joined swiftly by her index finger. 

“Fuck, Katya!” Trixie whines, her thighs tensing around Katya’s face as she tries her best to be somewhat quiet. Katya shoots her a smug look before pressing closer against Trixie’s pussy, tongue swiping up before she starts sucking at Trixie’s clit, pressing another slender finger inside her and pumping slowly. Trixie’s eyes roll back as she focuses on every sensation, her hand leaving Katya’s hair to grip the pillow beneath her head.

It’s not long before Trixie’s done holding back, her heels pressed hard against the mattress as she gets unbearably close to her orgasm, grinding messily against Katya’s face, legs trembling as she moans. Katya waits until Trixie’s noises die down before drawing back, her cheeks pinker than before as she grins, lipstick almost rubbed clean from her lips. “You’re so beautiful,” she says softly, letting Trixie pull her close and straddling her waist as they share a kiss.

Trixie can taste herself on Katya’s tongue, can’t hold back a noise when she feels Katya toying with her nipples as they kiss. Trixie runs her hands up Katya’s body, squeezing slowly at her breasts and caressing them as Katya grinds down against her hip. 

She’s wet enough to be felt through the lace, and Trixie moves to press two fingers against her soaked cunt, rubbing slow circles and bathing in the glow of every noise Katya makes, soft and desperate. “You want me to go down on you?” she whispers, sliding her fingers under the lacy fabric and stroking slowly between her lips with her middle finger, rolling slowly against her clit.

“No, stay like this, I’m close,” Katya murmurs, pressing her face against Trixie’s perfumed neck and sucking at fragrant skin, just to keep her mouth occupied. Trixie does as she’s asked, rubbing slow circles against Katya’s clit and wrapping her other arm around her waist, keeping her close. 

Katya’s trembling all over, her legs spread wide to fully straddle Trixie’s thick hips, grinding slow and shaky against Trixie’s fingers. “You’re so wet, honey,” Trixie moans, pushing her fingers down to press slowly inside Katya, circling her thumb against her clit as she curls her fingers slowly. It takes a few moments of Trixie’s shaky fingering for Katya to climax, and she makes it clear when her climax hits, groaning loud and low in Trixie’s ear.

They stay like this for a while, Katya straddling Trixie, Trixie’s fingers still inside her until she’s confident Katya’s orgasm is done. Trixie takes a moment to rub Katya’s lower back, easing some tension and smiling when she purrs in thanks. “Sorry if I wasn’t much good,” she says gently.

“You were flawless,” Katya hums against Trixie’s shoulder, her breathing slow as she relaxes against Trixie. “Miraculous. Inhuman levels of wonderful... should we shower?” she asks lazily, sitting up slowly and grinning when Trixie gives her an unimpressed look. “I’ll take that as a no. You need anything to sleep in?”

Trixie shakes her head, never a fan of doing anything after an orgasm. She’s happy to bask as Katya stands, pulling her stockings and panties off and tossing them in a laundry basket that sorely needs emptying. Trixie just watches contentedly, all lazy and quiet as she nudges her shoes off the edge of the bed. 

“I’m gonna get some water, don’t cry too much while I’m gone,” Katya says with a wink, padding out of the room fully nude. Trixie takes the time to glance around the room, humming along to some Brandi Carlile song in her head. 

Katya’s room feels like it’s straight out of some witch fantasy, pieces of tulle and lace strewn about over a desk with a sewing machine. There’s a shelf covered in candles of all shapes and sizes and colours, most of them half melted. On that same shelf there’s a potted plant, sat atop what looks like a bible and alongside a ceramic cat with huge purple eyes. 

“I like your room,” Trixie says when Katya returns with a washcloth in her hand, scooting over to give her room to settle on the bed. Katya’s eyes crinkle with her smile, pulling her lashes off carefully and setting them in a little purse on her cluttered bedside table. “It’s nice. Is all the art yours?”

“Everything apart from the nude print by the window,” Katya yawns as she wipes her own makeup off, sitting at the side of the bed and leaning against Trixie’s tented leg as she starts to clean red lipstick from Trixie’s skin. “Actually, that’s technically half mine. I didn’t take the photo, but that’s me.”

Trixie just lies back and watches Katya moving in the dim light, eyes barely flickering to the print on the wall. It’s beautiful, but this is another level. Katya’s clearly athletic, strong arms and defined abs. “Wow,” Trixie says, dazed as Katya settles beside her finally, clicking the light off. “You’re ripped.”

Katya snorts a laugh against Trixie’s shoulder, moving comfortably close to her and drawing her into a smooth kiss, fingertips trailing along her curvy waist. “You’re so beautiful,” Katya breathes, smiling when Trixie whimpers. “You are! We didn’t just have pity sex, Trix!”

“I’ll believe you for now,” Trixie smiles softly, settling comfortably and yawning as Katya grabs the blanket from the bottom of the bed, pulling it loosely over the both of them. “Thank you for tonight. It was good,”

“It’s nothing, honey. Goodnight,” Katya presses a kiss to Trixie’s cheek, draping an arm over her waist and settling down. Trixie relaxes with the rhythm of Katya’s heartbeat, drifting off peacefully to the sound of her soft breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr and twitter at blushingkatya on both, drop me a message if you wanna cry about the atomic blonde wig like i do on a daily basis


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